


Neither heard nor seen

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, THRUSH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 20:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: furious, accent, orangeAn unobserved witness takes risky action to help the two UNCLE agents





	Neither heard nor seen

A noisy motor scooter shot past followed a moment later by a car. The scooter made a sharp turn and disappeared into an alleyway that led to a yard behind some warehouses. It wasn’t wide enough for the pursuing car which stopped. Two men got out drawing weapons from under their jackets and ran down the alleyway. No-one noticed the old lady in the light grey coat standing watching; she blended in with the background and, in innocence of the potential danger, she continued to watch and even crossed the road to look down the alleyway. She heard furious shouting, some quieter responses, then several loud bangs. The significance of that did not escape her; she stepped back, hearing the scooter returning.

It weaved its way along the alley and burst out of it as its rider shouted and fired behind him, and sped past her. As he did so, she swung her shopping bag. It contained cans of baked beans and a bag of potatoes and caught the rider’s helmet, bringing him down with a crash to lie still in the middle of the road. The scooter slid across the road and spun round a lamppost its engine still running. Stepping back into a doorway, she was slightly afraid that she might have chosen to bring down a good guy, though she felt, without any good reason to think so, that a scooter was an unlikely vehicle for good guys, and wondered what had happened to the two other men.

One man came running from the alleyway and stared in surprise at the man in the road. He looked back into the alley and pulled a pen from his pocket and, twisting it, spoke urgently into a small microphone. The old lady heard him say, a little bafflingly, that the thrush was down and someone else was hurt – she didn’t catch the name. He went to the man in the road and bent to check the pulse in his neck. He straightened and shrugged, then went back to the alley to help his partner who was limping badly from a leg wound.

They were both well dressed and good looking. They looked like wholesome young fellows – fairly young anyway – from what the old lady could see. The wounded one, a slight, fair-haired man, sank to the ground clutching his leg which was bleeding freely. The darker one knelt beside him and began to press the wound. “Our man’s unconscious. I’ve called for assistance. Will you be OK?” he was heard to say.

“Of course, I will be OK,” said the young man and passed out. The old lady, hearing a non-American accent, wondered again whether she’d done the right thing, but then more vehicles arrived with medics and a stretcher and was reassured. The scene was cleared in moments and the two unconscious men were borne away. The dark man got back into his car and followed.

The blood had been washed away by one of the men who had brought a water container and spray for the purpose so, in an otherwise grey scene, the only other colour was the orange picture on the label of an incongruous can of beans lying on the sidewalk. The old lady bent to pick it up, lost her balance and sat down with a bump in a puddle of water.

<><><> 

No-one notices you when you get old. You could be invisible. So, when things happen on the street, you can be the only observer and yet be unobserved, yourself. Strange, really. It’s not as if age necessarily brings witlessness. All right, not invariably.

So, when I had that fall – that’s what age brings, disorientation, tuh – I messed up my coat in a puddle. It’s my only coat so I wanted to get it cleaned quickly. No-one but me cares, but I have some pride left. There’s a place where they’ll clean and press your stuff while you wait, so I thought I’d go there before going home. Of course, there are steps down to it, which isn’t great when you’ve bruised your hip, but anyway.

I made it down to the door and went in. The man behind the counter took the coat and examined it. “Sure, lady. I can do it while you wait,” he said and found a seat for me.

I told him what I’d seen and he seemed quite interested. “I still don’t know if I did the right thing,” I confessed.

He nodded. “It sounds like you did, lady,” he said. He wasn’t the garrulous type; I couldn’t get any more conversation out of him, so I watched him for a while and then my coat was ready; a bit damp, but clean and pressed. “That’s better,“ I said, “how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, lady. I won’t charge a heroine for a little bit of cleaning like that.”

“Well, you’re very kind,” I told him, “but there’s no need to be sentimental.” I was just adding, “I hope I can climb those steps of yours. I’m stiffening up,” when someone suddenly walked out of a changing cubicle behind me.

“Let me help you, ma’am. Did you fall down the steps?” said a faintly familiar voice. I looked round. A dark young man. Where had I seen him?

“No, I sat down in a puddle. Where did you come from? Have you been in that cubicle all the time?”

“No, I was in a back office. Where was this puddle? It hasn’t been raining.”

I started to tell him my story as we climbed the steps. He listened attentively, shook my hand and offered to take me home. “You don’t have to do that,” I said.

“It’s the least I can do. You helped me and my partner today.”

“Oh, my! That’s who you are! Is the other guy OK? The blond one?”

“Illya? Oh yes. He’ll be fine.”

I didn’t learn much more during the drive home, except that they were in law enforcement, but he did send me a huge bouquet of flowers later.

I wonder if I’m right about scooters?

<><><><> 


End file.
